Blundering Toward Ecstasy
by G.E Waldo
Summary: A race to a different finish. Speculative spoilers for the preview of Nov 4th, 2008 episode .
1. Chapter 1

BLUNDERING TOWARD ECSTASY

(½)

By GeeLady

Summary: A race to a different finish. (_**Speculative spoilers**_ for the preview of Nov 4th, 2008 episode).

Rating: M for Mature. **Pre-slash/slash**. Language.

**Pairing: House/Wilson**

**Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You son-of-a-_bitch."_

Wilson looked up from his stack of paperwork. House had burst through his door and, without warning, made with the insult.

Wilson didn't react, other than to say, "Greetings and salutations back."

"You asked Cuddy out on a date."

Wilson noticed something about House. Like - he didn't sit down as he usually would and thump his cane in good humor. He didn't crack a joke or look away from Wilson even once. He in fact stared with eyes spilling accusation and hurt.

Wilson put all of it aside to ask, "So what?"

"So you know I like her. I'm crazy about her. I _kissed_ her and we're not talking chaste little peck on the cheek like you'd give her after a bad night of Experimental Theater, I'm talking a tongue-waggling, french-ified, deep-throated collision."

Wilson explained in a staccato fashion. "You kissed her. You've done that before. I asked her out. I've done _that_ before. Your Regiments' position is weak."

House threw his hand in the general direction of Cuddys' office. "You _know_ I've had a thing for Cuddy for a long time but you go ask her out like that doesn't matter to you."

Wilson sat back in his chair, linking his fingers together on his lap. "And _you_ knew you had a "thing" for her for years and years and _years_, and it didn't seem to matter at all. You said nothing to her. You did nothing."

"I was waiting for the right time. Am I supposed to think your diving right in after me is a coincidence? This is sabotage."

"You're delusional. Cuddy and I are friends."

"Did you flash those big brown orbs her way a few times when you took her to Orestes's Greek Palace?"

Wilson stared up at him. "Are you _still_ paying that idiot detective to follow me!?" Wilson shook his head. "God, House. I took her _out_. We had dinner. It was nice. I haven't bought the woman a ring. And if you're as interested in her as you claim, why haven't _you_ taken her out? Or at least asked her out? Or done something in five years besides crack crude jokes about the size of her ass?"

"I'm pacing myself."

"Why?"

"Because-"

Wilson looked at him sharply_. "Well?"_

"With no one else in the running, . .I might stand a chance. With you in the mix, I've already lost."

Wilson dropped his eyes back to his work. "That's ridiculous."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Wilson stood and went to his wall mounted pencil sharpener, shoving a new H5 into the hole and turning the handle savagely like he was trying to crank-start a Model T. "Here's some strategy: do something _nice_, House. Take her to a romantic restaurant. Pull out her chair and ask her about her family. Offer a few grains of what ever's in that icy cold heart of yours."

Wilson regretted the last crack when he saw the sudden hurt in Houses' face. But the emotion had flicked on and then off, vanishing like a firebug in the dark.

House stared down at his shoes and his cane, then back at Wilson. "I can't pull out her chair without first hooking my cane over something, getting my balance and hoping like hell I don't tip over while I'm doing the pulling out of chair thing. My complicated, klutzy execution of it kind takes away some of the romance, and my date having to pull out _my_ chair for _me_ doesn't exactly feed the love either.

"If I ask her about her family, she'll tell me all about summers at the farm, riding her pony Starlight, and trips on her dads' thirty foot Skiff. All real nice stories that'll pass some time and make her feel good."

Wilson sat down again, scooting his chair on wheels close to his desk, liking the feel of the solid wood between his vulnerable shins and Houses' hard cane. "See?"

"And then she'll ask me about mine. . ."

Wilson knew, instantly and without reservation, that she wouldn't want to hear about them. He had only learned a little the last few months from House and the little he knew was knowledge stained with sorrow and memories of the pain in Houses' eyes whenever he spoke of it. No, it would not be an appropriate first, or even second date topic of conversation.

House didn't look at Wilson anymore. "All I have is the history she and I share. That's it. You swoop in now with your pretty brown eyes, starched shirts and sparkling new BMW, I'm out of the running before I even get started."

"Stop exaggerating."

House stared, his face a flurry of confusion. "I though we were _**ex**_**-**ex-best friends? Why are you doing this?"

Wilson had not even asked himself that one, and his reasoning brain finally caught up with his impulsive heart in that he really didn't have an adequate answer.

House didn't wait for one. He turned to march to the door, a lop-sided, hitching march. A lone and wounded soldier. He stopped at the door and said quietly. "I'm fifty years old." He took a tired, battle weary breath. "I'm a drug addict and, . ."

House paused to reveal another thing Wilson had often suspected but never confirmed. Until now. ". . .and an alcoholic."

House leaned against the door jamb, biting his lip. "I'm a cripple who'll never be able to take her for long walks or have the courage to put on a bathing suit and vacation on a Mexican beach. My livers' got maybe five or ten years left on it and I'm a miserable, obsessive ass who'll never change. Who doesn't want to. I'm too. . ." He looked over at Wilson with a helpless shrug. " . . .I'm too _tired_ to."

House stepped through the door. "Congratulations, Wilson. You win. Just like always."

The door shut behind him.

XXX

"Are you two fighting again?" Cuddy raised hands to her ears and shook her head, walking away from Wilson like he was one of two troublesome teenagers and she a frazzled mother.

"No. Not exactly."

Cuddy entered her office, dismayed to see Wilson following after her. "What??" She asked, sitting at her desk. She had case folders stacked a foot high, waiting for her to go over and sign off on.

Wilson thought he had it bad when it came to paperwork. "Um, . . look . . ." He rubbed his hands together, "House likes you."

She stared at him like a woman interrupted in the middle of a hair perm. "Not that it's any of your business but I know and _s-o-o-o?"_

"He kissed you." It was question that, by the third word, had turned into a statement.

"Yes. He kissed me. Again, what business is it of yours?"

"Did you kiss him back?" At her fiery expression, he changed directions a little, enough to ward off a champaign heel driven into his kneecap. "Look. House is crazy about you and I'm not sure that if you're not as crazy about him that he isn't going to go crazy and end up getting himself hurt. . .from the. . .crazed uncertainty." He looked confused. "Did any of that make sense?"

"No."

"House thinks we're dating."

Cuddy froze in place, her pen poised over the Clinic Weekly Report.

Wilson quickly specified. "That you and I are dating."

"You're going to have to pretend you're not here anymore so I can pretend you didn't say that."

Wilson felt a little hurt. "I'm not that bad. Am I?"

Cuddy sighed. "Wilson. You are a good doctor and a long suffering, enabling, occasionally manipulative jerk, which makes you a perfect match for House. But you are also a man who thinks marriage is a ride at the fairground. Don't take this the wrong way but you make an excellent friend for an insane man because you _love_ that insane man. Wilson, I'm not in the market for a friend."

"I'm not sure I understood all of that."

"I mean, House likes me and I like him. So what?" She opened the first folder. "I'm not marrying him. We're comfortable around each other. I was hurting, he was impulsive. The kiss was nice but it didn't mean anything. I'm his boss. It _can't_ mean anything."

"So what are you going to tell him?"

"Nothing."

"Cuddy, House thinks he loves you."

"No he doesn't. House is just lonely. I've got plenty of experience with that and believe me, it's not the same thing." She pursed her lips. "By the way, I'm not the one hurting him. You are."

"Me?" Wilson denied it to save his stinging conscience, though he knew it was true. The whole truth and nothing but. He still didn't have an answer. Last time House had provided the answer. _"You dump the person that means the most to you because you're afraid to lose him." _

"You love House. He loves you. But you took _me_ on a date. _You've_ got him all confused. Consider that a landmark accomplishment."

"Now _I'm_ confused."

"House thinks he loves - _wants_ - to love me because he thinks there's no one else. He feels abandoned. You abandoned him."

"I guess I deserve that. But i-is there? Is there someone else?"

"You're just going to have to figure out the rest on your own."

XXX

Second Part ASAP


	2. Chapter 2

BLUNDERING TOWARD ECSTASY

(2/2)

By GeeLady

Summary: A race to a different finish. (_**Speculative spoilers**_ for the preview of Nov 4th, 2008 episode).

Rating: M for Mature. **Pre-slash/slash**. Language.

**Pairing: House/Wilson**

**Disclaimer: I manipulate the sexy House and others to my hearts content. No fee's, no earnings,...just fun!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Don't walk away from me." Wilson caught up to House as he was climbing in his car. "Hey!"

House ignored him and Wilson watched him drive away with guilty eyes. "Damn." He quickly climbed in his own car and started the engine. He figured he knew where his ex-ex-best friend was going. Either to Cuddys' home or a local Pub.

He was wrong on both counts. House pulled up in front of the corner store just down from his building and parked. Wilson waited until House limped through the propped open door. Then he parked and followed him inside.

House had a basket and was picking himself up a few tide-him-over groceries, like bread, cheese, cereal and milk, which was about all House ever bought since he almost never cooked. Wilson watched House also put a sixteen ouncer of a good bourbon in the basket.

"Is that dinner?"

House didn't jump. "I saw you following me. And yes."

"Bourbon for dinner?"

"Cheese, bread and bourbon for dinner."

"How about take out? My treat and no you didn't see me following you."

"Yes I did. You're the anti-Dick Tracy. You couldn't tail a puppy to his water dish."

"Cut the crap. You did not see me."

"Yes I did to infinity. Go take Cuddy out. It's what you're good at."

"House - "

" - _Wilson_!"

Wilson followed him to the register and the bored man standing behind the cash register ready to ring up the sales. Without thinking about it, Wilson helped House pile the groceries on the counter. He kept talking. "I'm not dating Cuddy."

"But you want to."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do, you're perfect for each other. Anal retentive perfectionists who idolize Frank Sinatra."

"Cuddy is my boss. I don't date my boss."

The impatient cashier blurted, "Can you two love-birds finish your spat outside, please? There are other people in line."

House fumbled for his wallet. He stared at the cashier in mock horror then turned to Wilson in accusation, "You made me forgot my wallet, honey, with all this fighting! Why can't we ever just go home and snuggle?"

Wilson pulled his wallet from his pocket with a weary sigh and handed the money to the cashier with forced good nature.

House, all smugness and quiet triumph, picked up his bag. In a voice thick with hurt, "You're sleeping on the couch tonight." He said loudly enough for Wilson and anyone else near by. "You've _upset_ me."

-

-

-

Wilson didn't offer to help House into his apartment with the grocery bag until House dropped it on the sidewalk halfway between his car and the building. Wilson debated whether to just leave it there and teach House a lesson, except he'd paid for it all with his own money. He snatched the bag and tossed it on the couch cushions, unconcerned about the possible casualty of squished bread.

"House. I'm not dating Cuddy."

House didn't bother putting the food away. He hung his jacket up in his hall closet and walked to the bathroom.

Wilson followed.

House stopped him at the door by placing his flat hand on the center of his chest. "Um. I can go on my own. Unless you want to pee for me too? You can watch if you like."

Retreating again to the living room, "I'll pass." Wilson carried the groceries into the kitchen and put them away. Houses' fridge was deserted, his cupboards lonely for a purpose.

When House finished in the bathroom, he flopped down on his couch. "Are you still here? Don't you have a Cuddy to conquer?"

"No, I have a friend to kick in the ass."

By remote, House turned on the television. "You're a jerk."

Wilson walked over and switched the television off, placing his body in front of it so House couldn't begin a switch-on, switch-off war. "We have to talk."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"Then why didn't it matter a few days ago? Why didn't it matter when you called her up and booked reservations."

"I. Am. Her. Friend." Wilson telegram-ed the words. "That's all. Stop acting like a six year old."

House didn't have a come back other than a sigh.

Wilson stood before him shaking his head in the manner of a man confronted by a particularly vicious conundrum. "I . . .don't want you going out with Cuddy. I took her out so you'd back off - I know it's screwed up. But I don't want you and her . . .one date would lead to another and soon . . .I'll be . . .out of the picture."

House, for one of the few times in Wilsons' memory, appeared thoroughly confused. "I'm already regretting this next question - why?"

"She's not right for you."

"She has all the right parts in all the right shapes in all the right places."

"House - you're a miserable SOB."

"Thanks. Is our flattery fest' done now?"

"No and shut your trap for a change."

House blinked. "Wow. That doesn't sound like you. Even if you were _me_, it doesn't sound like you."

"You're rude and obnoxious, and you make everyone around you insane. You drove me into _therapy_."

House: "Well, despite what everyone thinks, I haven't always been the sweet, mild mannered man you've just described. I used to be a _jerk_."

Wilson continued as though House had actually remained shut-up. "And being friends with you has been a long, long, _long_ up-side-down, backwards, corkscrew roller coaster of anxiety, worry, pain, anger and idiocy - that last one on both sides."

"You flatter me."

Wilson stepped closer. Loomed over his friend sitting on the low couch cushions. "But it's also been fun. And never, ever boring. The weirdest part is I don't really like you that much. In fact some days I really hate you, House." Wilson raised his hands up to his ears in a gesture of blocking out the insanity that was leaking out of every pore of House and leeching into every pore of Wilsons'. "I do, I really _hate_ you some days."

"Thank God told me. I mean, you could have suffered for _years_ being best friends with an ass."

Wilson put his palm out to shush his friend. "The problem is, I don't _not_ love you."

"I think I'm going to have to write this down - have you seen Wilson? 'Cause he was here just a minute ago."

"House!"

_"Wilson??"_

"I love you."

"Great. Can I have a beer now?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Sure. Of course you love me."

"Sorry?"

"Of course you love me. I'm your drug."

Wilson blinked excessively. "Explain this please."

"You said it. I'm a rude obnoxious, backwards thrill ride. You're addicted." House shrugged.

"Are we reversing roles? Let's just stay you and me, okay? I love you. You love me. It . . .makes sense."

"Only one of us is making sense today."

Wilson stepped right up close to his friend. "House. I not only don't not love you, I love you."

"You're talking confusing very is."

"I love you. Okay? That clear enough for you?"

"Do me a favor and don't buy me a ring."

Wilson followed Houses' movements around the apartment. House walked to his piano but didn't sit down. He picked up a book and didn't open it, placing it back on the shelf.

Wilson sighed. "I wasn't planning on it."

House mini-lectured his next point. "First there's the _I love you_ part. Then there's some fevered though careful sex. Then a ring." House flipped open a magazine, idling glancing over its contents. "Then lots of sex for a while. Then fevered sex becomes average sex - and less of it - occasionally followed by words like "happily ever after"." House looked at Wilson from across the room. "Then there's no sex at all and a philandering cheat hot for his best friend after a messy and expensive divorce and/or public transit tragedy."

"Are you going somewhere with this? Other than reminding me I have a less than stellar history of marriage, divorce court philanthropy, or the many hazzards of returning a drunken, crippled mans' forgotten cane?"

"I was talking about love. You didn't marry because of love , you married to _find_ love. And _less than stellar_ is high praise for zero for zero."

Wilson looked at his shoes then at House. "I know I screwed up that part of my life. Did you ever stop to ask yourself why?"

"Did you?"

When Wilsons' eyes started to shine with moisture, House relented a little. House leaned against his high, black shelf heavy with books. "Look. I admit I need you. You're my best friend. My only friend."

Wilson thought maybe he was hearing things.

"Don't get all misty eyed - it's my greatest _failing_. As much as I need you and as much as you knew that, you still walked. And if I couldn't handle that - because as cool as I kept my exterior, my interior kept asking me what the hell was I upset about - you think I could I handle you walking if we were bum buddies too?"

"I'm sorry."

"I know." House rubbed a speck of soil off the rubber tip of his cane. "I can't be half of a couple if somewhere down the line, the B half decides he's tired of faking a friendship or pretending to love me and hits the highway. I don't want anything to do with you anymore if it increases the risk of someday us not even being friends anymore. _Again."_

Wilson felt hollow. His feet said there was no use, but his heart was in charge. "House, no one can make promises about the future. You could cheat too, you know."

"No, I couldn't."

Wilson heard the resolution in Houses' tone but, given Houses' penchant for lying or cheating in almost every other circumstance of life, felt he had no right to it.

"Not with someone I love." House added.

House was no relationship saint. He could, and had, slept with a mans' girlfriend and a married woman (several times) while single, seemingly without a twinge of conscience but Wilson didn't think House had it in him to be directly unfaithful to a person he was in love with (and who felt the same way to him). House could say something nasty and ignore his significant other for a week, but cheating on her - or him - for any reason just wasn't in his programming.

Wilson watched House standing away from him, far away from him, across the room. A safe spot with furniture in between them. He was protecting himself. Wilson thought it unbelievably sad. "Is that really how you think of me?" Wilson was so sure about House. Yes, his three wives had been his road-trips to finding love. House he loved. Had always loved. Currently loved. "I don't want to marry you. Does that help?"

House smiled just a little.

Wilson moved further into the room. He wanted to close the distance just a little. "I'm sorry I abandoned you."

"I'm sorry you felt you had to."

"I was just trying to protect my feelings, or erase them. Didn't work obviously."

"You cost me nine thousand dollars."

"What . .?"

"The detective. Four months of detecting, taking notes, taking pictures - following you around. You wouldn't let me in your door, you wouldn't talk to me." House seemed uncomfortable with the admission. "So . . .I paid someone to . . ."

_Be near me instead of you._ Wilson finished, feeling that awful hollowness again.

House, uncomfortable with the amount of self he had exposed, set out to prove he was okay with Wilsons' having been gone. He had been Just Fine. "Stein bought me lunch." House looked away. "N' Chase went bowling with me."

"You were reaching out because I really hurt you."

"No I wasn't and no you didn't."

Wilson decided to ignore Houses' personal space issues and walked right over to him so he was no more than three feet away. House didn't move but he tried to ignore the maneuver by deliberately keeping his eyes elsewhere. "Is that all you have to say?" Wilson asked softly. "Am I risking my friendship here by wanting more?"

"You think I'm going to run because you've finally admitted you're gay?"

"Are you?"

House stared defiantly but, at Wilsons' steady gaze, dropped his eyes. "No." He shrugged, a habitual self depreciating twitch. "Where would I go?"

Wilson stared at House. He had nothing left to say. Either House was going to accept this new thing, though there wasn't yet a thing but if House responded to the next thing he planned to do, then there might be a thing, or House would reject it and they could go on with the friendship as usual. Usual for House.

"I want you." Wilson said.

That made House whip his eyes back to Wilsons' and Wilson wasn't sure what thoughts came alive in those blues, but they darted around, wary and curious, needful and frightened.

"We always come back to us." Wilson stepped right up to House so he was inches from him. He could feel his body heat. He could see the doubt and hear the unspoken warning that went with it: Go no farther unless you mean business.

"If you screw this up, . ." House whispered and Wilsons' heart pounded with the charge House next laid upon him. "I'm _not_ going to change. So if, after . . ._this, _whatever this is, you leave me, walk away-" House stared straight into Wilson's eyes, right to the deepest part of his motivation. "-we're _done_. It'll be finished because you of all people should know that I can't take that again."

"House. As big an ass as you can be, I was as big an ass not to recognize I was running from you because I was afraid to lose you. If that's not proof that I can't live without you, I don't know what is."

Houses' lips moved on their own, trying to sort through the preceding jumbled up point. "Did to you that any of sense make?"

"Sense complete."

Wilson chanced a touch on his friends' shoulder.

House deflected. "You know I'd sue for palimony, right? I'll drain you dry and _then_ take you to the cleaners. I'll ruin _you._ So think about that while you're trying to get into my pants."

Wilson smiled, nodded then stepped even closer, wanting to make it just a little hard for House to breath easy.

"So, when did you actually start liking hanging hairys?"

Wilson ignored Houses' crude attempt at shrugging off the too close, too tender moment. Instead and without warning he wrapped his arms around Houses' waist, eliciting a gasp of surprise from him, which went straight to Wilson's cock like an electric charge. "A while now, and just yours. Plus I happen to know there's very little fuzz down there." He kissed Houses' cheek. "Which for some reason is amazingly sexy."

Wilson quickly kissed his friends mouth, less House assumed nothing more was going to happen that night. That House put up with it was enough for now. ""Hanging Harrys". Very romantic by the way."

House drew back. "See? Everyone's an addict. I mention any body part and you swoon. Mmm...lesse'? Dick, balls, sack, butt-"

"-Leg, thighs," Wilson took up the challenge. "Nipples, chest, back, muscles, lips, eyes, throat, navel, hands, ass, cock, . ." He touched Houses' scratchy cheek with his lips and teeth, biting just enough to make him jump. "All part_**s**_ of your endless charm."

Wilson was satisfied to see House swallow hard.

"See?" House said, his voice quivered just a little. "I'm your one hundred, eight, two pound high."

Gently amused, "Oh?"

"You tried to leave me but I'm just too screwed up to ignore."

"You're not as screwed up as you think." Wilson kissed him again. "Though you are impossible to ignore."

XXXX

END *I might continue this if the next ep' inspires me. It was only supposed to be a one-shot.

Working on Riddled With Heaven Part II. Will be posted this week.


End file.
